


Don't Let Your Life Pass You By

by Memories_of_the_Shadows



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Character of Color, Closeted Character, DADT, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Moving On, Swearing, canon character death, implied/referenced suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22786852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memories_of_the_Shadows/pseuds/Memories_of_the_Shadows
Summary: Moving on is sometimes the hardest thing you have to do.  It helps when you have people you know along the way.
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Riley/Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, Tony Stark/Sam Wilson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60





	Don't Let Your Life Pass You By

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "I Will Remember You" by Sarah McLachlan.
> 
> I do not consent to my work being hosted on any unofficial apps, especially any with ad revenue and subscription services, or any website other than ao3 unless I personally cross-posted a work.

There’s a civilian stranger cursing up a storm under a Humvee--Sam _knows_ they’re a civilian because Doc Martens aren’t exactly military issue and neither are jeans even if the denim in question looks like it’s been through a war--and normally Sam would be dragging whoever it is in front of the nearest superior officer but Colonel Rhodes is standing there in front of this whole scene looking long-suffering but entirely okay with the fact that there is a civilian there.

Sam’s not going to question it. “Fuck,” says the guy under the humvee.

Colonel Rhodes ignores it all and says, “I know that there have been questions about why you all have been assigned here and that so far you haven’t had any answers. A pararescue team with your track record should be out there, doing what you do best.” It never fails to make Sam feel giddy when their rescue record is brought up. This is why he joined up, this is what he wants to do with his life, save people. He wants to shoot a cocky grin to Riley, but Colonel Rhodes is still talking and he’s not going to disrespect a superior officer like that. “Stark Industries has agreed to provide the Air Force with experimental technologies to help you do your jobs even better and your team has been hand-picked to be the first outfitted with the EXO Falcon wing-suit.”

“Mother-fucking piece of shit,” says the guy under the humvee.

It’s hilarious how much effort Colonel Rhodes is putting into not reacting to the civilian. Sam’s going to guess it’s some kind of SI scientist under there, Colonel Rhodes is well-known as the SI military liaison so it makes sense. (Sam knows that Colonel Rhodes probably only got that position because he’s apparently friends with _the_ Tony Stark but whatever, nepotism is alive and well and Starktech is better than anything else on the market even if some of their business practices are kind of sleazy.)

“We have someone here to ask you some questions and get started on making this possible, please answer to your full ability unless such details are classified in which case refer the question to me and I will--”

“Is this Hammertech, platypus, have you been buying fucking Hammertech behind my back!?” yells the guy under humvee.

Someone coughs--not Sam, he’s better at keeping a straight face than that, but it sounds kind of like Riley--and Colonel Rhodes shuts his eyes and looks like he’s praying for patience. “Tony,” he says, voice flat but not angry. Damn, but Colonel Rhodes is quickly becoming Sam’s favorite superior officer if this is the way he reacts to everything. “Tony,” a little louder, because the guy is not listening to anything but his own rant about Hammertech. He makes a few good points, stuff Sam’s noticed too even if he’s never had any formal engineering experience.

Colonel Rhodes sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, then goes over and kicks the mechanic’s creeper out from under the humvee. “ _Anthony_.”

“I thought we agreed you were never going to call me that again,” says Tony. The guy is shorter than Sam expected, and it must be tough having the same name as your boss. Must be responsible for a lot of SI’s military tech though, if he’s that familiar with Colonel Rhodes.

“ _I_ thought we agreed you were going to cut it out with nicknames while I’m at work,” Colonel Rhodes replies, dry as the fucking desert. Just how important is this guy anyway? Even the most patient military guy has to have some limits. Especially now, with DADT. Nicknames like that… well, there’s a reason he doesn’t dare joke with Riley like that.

The guy blinks innocently up at Colonel Rhodes before he bounces to his feet. Tony is short and scruffy, his old Led Zepplin shirt just _covered_ in grease and his hair sticking up unattractively. He waves and grins at them. “Hey, Tony Stark here. Ready to fly?”

Sam’s never going to live down not recognizing _the_ Tony Stark right off the bat.

* * *

The thing is, Tony Stark is both everything and nothing like the tabloids say he is.

Seeing the guy every six months like clockwork after those initial few weeks when he was building the EXO-1 Falcons means that Sam thinks he’s got a pretty good idea of what makes Tony Stark tick.

He’s not the polished playboy always with a drink in his hand, at least not when he’s working, and he’s not that _vain_. He’s not all fly by the seat of your pants, not with his tech and not with their lives. Sam doesn’t know where he finds the time--he’s probably skipping out on board meetings and actually running his company to hang out with and build tech for a bunch of soldiers--but Tony Stark is always there and mostly on time for their upgrades.

But he’s a sarcastic asshole whose default setting seems to be ‘rude’ and ‘egomaniacal’. If Stark has more than a passing association with the concept of manners then Sam will eat his fucking wings. After he’s court-martialed for punching a civilian contractor in the face of course. And it’s like he runs off an engine fueled by coffee and alcohol, and doesn’t realize no one else does. He’s a bombastic, hyperactive _child_ and Sam has no idea how Colonel Rhodes hasn’t strangled him ages ago.

Riley doesn’t get Sam’s obsession with the guy, but that’s Riley. He’s a laid-back person, definitely Sam’s better half even if they can’t show how much, and Sam doesn’t think there is a celebrity in the _world_ that would excite Riley into speculation.

It’s been three years though, and Sam has saved hundreds of people who probably would have died with the wings that Stark’s built for them. Even though some of the enlisted around have been making noises about Stark being better utilized for bigger and better missiles Sam can honestly say that saving people is what Stark does best, works his hardest at, in what experience he has of him.

Not everyone agrees, it turns out.

Sam snaps to attention when the doors open. Stark’s a little late--by a couple of days, actually--and Sam hasn’t seen Colonel Rhodes in almost a month. No big deal.

The people who step through aren’t Colonel Rhodes or Tony Stark though. It’s Colonel Jameson--and he _has_ been around, and even though he still hasn’t heard anything official, it’s pretty clear he’s replacing Colonel Rhodes--and a Hammertech representative judging by the logo on the man’s briefcase. Sam thinks about all the times Stark’d waved away any mention of missiles or weapons development, mumbling that the Falcon suits were more important and useful and he feels something heavy in his stomach.

“Men, while we are grateful to Mr. Stark and his company for getting this program off the ground, so to speak, Mr. Hammer of Hammertech will be taking over the maintenance and upgrade schedule of the Falcon program in the hopes of producing a more… flexible suit. Proceed as normal.” ‘Flexible’, ha, it’s just another word for mass-production. One size fits all is what the military is all about. No room for any square pegs in the military-industrial complex’s round holes. Sam tries not to let his disdain for that aspect of his career path curl his lip in the presence of his new superior officer.

Riley goes to shake the Hammertech rep’s hand. “Mr. Hammer,” he starts, but is quickly cut off with a sneer.

“Mr. Hammer is far too busy to make _personal_ appearances, sergeant. But don’t worry, you’re in good hands now.” The amount of grease coming from the rep’s voice as he schmoozes could fill his grandmother’s bacon grease jar by itself but there’s no way that Sam would eat anything made with that. Riley pulls away, nonplussed but not really upset.

Sam files a notation every time Hammertech misses a maintenance or flubs an upgrade but he is ignored. The time between upgrades and maintenance gets longer and longer until the EXO-7 Falcons--only the second successful upgrade after the project was given to Hammertech--have been in place for years and, well, consistency trumps innovention everytime.

No new upgrades are scheduled. Any problems that they report are ignored until they become “just the way things are.” Eventually, even Sam stops trying.

* * *

They hear about Tony Stark going MIA before the information even gets back to the States. They even fly a few missions for Colonel Rhodes--who is still the best CO Sam’s ever had, even though he’s had a few more rotate into his squad since then--but nothing comes of it.

Given where Stark went missing, Sam suggests that Colonel Rhodes search the cave systems. The colonel shakes his head and says, “I wish I could do it justice.” Sam’s been around the block enough times to know that sometimes what the government says on the recruiting posters and what actually happens isn’t always the same. But Colonel Rhodes doesn’t need to hear that. They volunteer for a few strikes but nothing comes of it. The most they ever find before they’re told to stop is scraps of clothes and old signs of occupation.

(Thing is, Sam can almost understand the dilemma. The caves honeycomb the region, and there’s no one who knows them better than the terrorists who grew up playing in them. Even aside from the enemy’s greater knowledge, caves routinely kill even experienced people on a daily basis because they are _dangerous_. Colonel Rhodes has to somehow balance the life of one man against hundreds, maybe thousands, who could be lost. Sam couldn’t do it. He tries not to wonder if Colonel Rhodes is even able to sleep at night.)

“You’ll find him,” Sam says instead.

It takes six months and a straight up miracle that Sam is not going to think too hard about but Colonel Rhodes does find Stark. Who apparently mostly rescued himself.

Sam and the rest of the Falcons send cards, condolences, congratulations. Sam doesn’t expect to hear back from Stark and he doesn’t. None of them do.

But he’s still relieved when Stark goes out on that stage looking far healthier than he would have expected for how long he’d been captured, a blue light shining under his shirt like the moon behind clouds, and says “no more” to everyone who only wants to use his genius to kill. Who knows what Stark lost in those caves, but whatever else happened, it looks like he learned something about himself from it.

* * *

It’s early 2010 and Riley goes down.

His wings had never had the maneuverability that real bird’s wings do, had never been quite _perfect_ even if they had been _good enough_.

They were the last two of the Falcons, the only ones to survive or make a career out of it. Hammer had never managed to make the wing-suits able to be used by just anyone, and now there’s one less Falcon pilot in the world.

Sam watches Riley go down and he wants to scream.

Life’s not fair, Sam knows that all too well. But for a while, it was good, he could live with the not fair parts of life because everything else was… satisfying. Like his mama’s cooking, he could just live off the stuff that made him happy: Riley, being pararescue, doing good, and _being_ good. But life’s not fair and everything good gets taken away in the end.

If only the EXO-7s weren’t years out of date, maybe Riley could have dodged that RPG. If only, if only.

How he wishes. There’s not even enough stars in the sky to grant it though.

It’s the last thing he remembers, seeing that, before he wakes up in a field med-bay, with Colonel Rhodes on bedside duty reading some paperwork, instead of Riley. Of course. Because Riley is dead.

“Good, you’re awake.” Rhodes doesn’t look at him, doesn’t even look up from his papers, but Sam can see him relax even through his bleary eyes that feel too dry and grainy. “The doctor will be back soon, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

Sam doesn’t say anything. He’s just numb in the way that means the good drugs but that doesn’t stop his mind from replaying that last moment over and over again, each time with little details changed like he’s trying to photoshop it better. It won’t work, he already knows, but it seems he just can’t help himself.

“Tony wanted to be here when he heard, but, you know, protocol. Not that he ever pays attention to it, but one of us has to be the responsible one.” Rhodes sounds exasperated but so goddamned _fond_ that Sam feels like his gums have been replaced by lemon rinds. He wonders bitterly--though not for the first time or even the third--if Rhodes and Stark are together and just better at getting people to look the other way than they are at hiding it. “You probably have some idea of what the doctor’s going to tell you, huh?” Rhodes asks, and there’s no pity in his voice.

If there had been, Sam thinks he might have tried to punch him.

He doesn’t remember anything but watching Riley get hit by that stray RPG, seeing him fall in slow motion while his ears buzzed and he flew towards the love of his fucking life even though he knew--he fucking _knew_ \--Riley was already dead.

“It exploded, didn’t it.” Sam doesn’t need to remember it. He already _knows_.

Rhodes clicks his tongue absently. “Mmmhmm. It probably won’t feel like it for a while but you got lucky, Wilson. You were already pretty close to the ground--I’m not going to _ask_ why, you’re not going to _tell_ me, and I’ll make sure no one will _pursue_ the matter--and your back-up chute managed to deploy. Thing is, you’re in for a lot of P.T. and I think you know what that means.” Sam feels cold and adrift at the sly reference but it’s almost a relief at the same time. No more hiding. But no more reason to hide either. “Anyway. Tony likes you. He liked all of you, really, and you all were nice enough to him. Thank you for that, by the way, not everyone even tries. He’s an asshole but he’s still human. He’s probably going to offer you a position or something, it’s how he shows affection. Take it if you want. Find your feet, soldier. Maybe look up some of your buddies. I’ll make sure you get home in time for Sargeant Andrews’ service.”

Sam already knows he won’t take Stark’s handouts. Doesn’t want to be slapped in the face with what he could have had with Riley. He doesn’t even want to go to the funeral. Riley’s mother will get his flag, and he doesn’t even care about that but he can’t even pretend anymore that things will change, that they’ll be able to tell everyone. It’s too late for that.

* * *

Six months out of PT, eight out of the service, and nearly nine since he last saw Riley smile and Sam isn’t ready to step into the grave after him anymore but he also has no idea what he wants to do with the rest of his life; which yawns wide open and terribly alone before him.

He could do anything, really. Go back to school, go back to live with his mama, travel. Sam owes the people at the VA an awful lot, though, so he’s thinking mostly about what he’d like to do to give back a little.

Psychology sounds interesting. Might give him insight. Might hold the key to stopping the ache behind his ribs, emotionally at least. Physically, his ribs will warn him about any bad weather now, right along with his left arm.

Maybe his kidney would have too if it had survived.

Still, it could have been a hell of a lot worse, he knows. Riley wouldn’t want him to be dead in his place. Sam wouldn’t want Riley to be mourning him this way either.

Sam still doesn’t want any handouts from Stark--although he’s grateful that the man has either employed or written stellar recommendations for all the surviving Falcons--so he normally ignores Stark’s emails. But Stark’s birthday party sounds fun. Probably a bunch of booze, girls, and celebrities but still, fun.

He hasn’t had fun in almost nine months.

* * *

The party is not fun.

Stark is self-destructing worse than Sam was when he woke up in that field hospital with Rhodes ready and waiting to tear his entire future away. He forcibly ends the party by drunk driving his own fucking super suit.

Rhodes doesn’t help. Actively makes things worse, actually, and Sam is pretty sure by now that those two aren’t together like that because while stealing his tech is pretty terrible it’s not as out and out _vicious_ as it could have been. Rhodes flies away and Sam--who is also pretty sure that neither of them realized he was still there--is left to pick up the pieces.

Not being able to drink himself into a stupor like everyone else had is probably the best thing that could have happened for the both of them, Sam is fairly sure of that as he picks his way through the carpet of broken glass to the slumped pile of tech that is Tony Stark.

“Hey,” he says, hands out to his side like Stark is a rabid dog. “Hey, Stark, you okay?” It’s a stupid question.

Stark rasps out a laugh, and the grinding of metal fits the mood better than Sam would have guessed. Dramatics. It’s like Stark lives in a movie, _god_. “I’m just peachy-- Wilson, right?”

Ask a stupid question get a stupid answer. Sam should have known. “Yeah, Sam Wilson. And, seriously, I know you’re not alright--and I’m probably not the type of person you want to talk to--but… I’m here. If you need me.” Sam doesn’t think Stark will take him up on it, on anything. But he has to offer, not just because that’s what Riley would want him to do, not just because he sometimes feels like he owes Stark for the seconds it probably took him to throw money and resources towards him and the other Falcons, not just because he feels bad for Stark. It’s just the right thing to do.

Stark grunts and moves again, Sam has to wince. Metal on metal is _not_ a good sound. He sees the blue light on his chest that Stark is never without--something that he’s seen and heard a lot of speculation about, both in gossip rags and in the corridors of Walter Reed--and Stark just flops onto his back, staring at the sky through the hole Rhodes left behind. “Heh. Getting paid? If you could wait like two weeks, I’d appreciate it. Might even get a better check. Insider story and all that.” Stark sounds bitter.

Sam has no patience for that kind of shit. “Yeah, I get it. You’ve probably had that bullshit happen before, but I’m not going to do that. And you don’t have to trust me on that, but you don’t have to push me away when you need someone to help you and I’m right now the only person here. Give it time, I’ll prove it to you. Just let me help.” He has no idea why he’s pushing this so much, doesn’t know why it _bothers_ him so much to see Tony Stark as this bitter, broken lump of man and machinery.

Stark doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move at all, but after an eternity or at least a minute, he meets Sam’s eyes.

* * *

Tony shows up at Sam’s cramped apartment a couple weeks after the Battle of New York, acting just as if nothing big went down and he didn’t almost die.

If Sam hadn’t heard on the news that Tony was fine following that clusterfuck, he’s not sure he could have stayed on his ass in D.C. for anything. Rhodes texting him helped too.

He really wishes actually seeing Tony made him certain that they’re all right and Tony actually _is_ fine because he just looks like shit. Sam just raises an eyebrow and lets him in without saying that out loud. His mama raised him better than that.

Still, Tony has dark circles under his eyes, his hands shake just a bit, and whenever his eyes drift closed for just a _little_ too long and Sam starts thinking he should break out the blanket Tony starts back awake and throws himself back into trying to distract himself any way he can on Sam’s couch. Like he can’t sleep.

Sam knows how that feels.

They’re in the middle of Sam complaining about the traffic in D.C. compared to the traffic in New York when Tony stops laughing and drums his fingers on his chest arc reactor. “Aren’t you going to ask me? About New York?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Sam’s dying of curiosity, but he’ll feed that beast with news sites and twitter updates. Interrogating Tony when he looks like he hasn’t slept in a week doesn’t sound like Sam’s idea of a great time.

“Everyone else has,” Tony says, and it sounds like a challenge. It almost always is a challenge when he says that. Almost two years and Tony’s still waiting for Sam to be someone he isn’t.

“I’m not everyone else, Stark, sorry to disappoint.” Sam’s not sorry at all. ‘Everyone else’ sounds like a bunch of assholes whenever Tony brings them up. He’s pretty sure Riley would rise up out of his grave to kick his ass if Sam ever becomes part of this ‘everyone else’. He hopes so, anyways. It’s a comfort to think that wherever Riley is now, he’s still trying to keep Sam on the right path.

Tony’s quiet for a bit, sipping at the cheap beer--the only drink left in his refrigerator, he should probably find something to eat before he starves but that can wait a day--before he says, “There was a bomb, you know. That was the reason I flew into the portal.”

Sam hadn’t known that for sure. He’d guessed, because Tony isn’t suicidal he must have had a reason for flying into that portal, but the news agencies have been strangely quiet on the subject. He just nudges Tony’s elbow with his own in support. “Uh-huh.”

“How’d you do it? Fly into danger all those times?” Tony groans, and rubs his eyes with his hands. “You didn’t even have armor, fuck, what a stupid oversight.”

He has to snort, “come on, Tony, don’t do that. Do you really think that your wings could have lifted two grown men _and_ heavy duty armor? Kevlar and bullet-proof vests worked well enough.” Sam doesn’t let himself think about the possibilities of armor. It won’t change anything now, and Tony has enough stuff that he feels guilty over. “And I never thought of it like that. It was always… a duty for me. I could do it, so I should. There’s so many people out there who are alive because I helped them. And I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You could have.” Tony puts the beer on the ground and shoves it away from him. “You did. Before I ever got there, that’s what you did. Rhodey called you a group of certified badasses.”

Sam’s not going to lie to himself, that’s pretty flattering to hear even second-hand from an old CO. “So maybe take my word for that there were people I saved with those wings that would have died if I didn’t have them.” He gets it, this wondering if anything he does helps that Tony has going on. What Tony does, it’s not always as tangible as a list of names he personally rescued.

“Okay, sure,” Tony says, but he doesn’t sound convinced. Sam can’t make him believe it, just like he can’t make him trust him. Time is the only thing that can do that. “I thought I was going to die, and all I could think about is that people will remember me by what I built.”

Tony’s probably thinking about the missiles, the weapons, the legacy of violence. He’s rubbing the arc reactor again, and for a brief moment, Sam looks at him and he feels like Riley is in the room: that overwhelming surety that Sam can do whatever he puts his mind to because Riley'll always have his back. Except it’s not Riley, it’s Tony. It’s a terrifying thing, and Sam isn’t ready for it, so he shoves it away.

“Tony, I don’t think you really know what people will remember you for.” Sam flips on the tv, making sure to skip past all the news channels to something nominally science that Tony can either bitch at or nerd out over. Tony sends him a grateful look, meeting his eyes, before getting sucked into the episode.

Sam tries to forget that flash of emotion, tries to get rid of the guilt that he knows Riley wouldn’t want him to feel, and laughs when Tony starts ranting about candy-making robots.

* * *

He likes D.C. It’s close enough to see his mama on weekends, maybe Tony if the weekend is long enough, but the city has history and flair and plenty of opportunities for him to use his brand new psychology degree and therapist certificate. Places to run, access to the VA if he needs it--and he does pretty well, but losing a kidney is no joke and he’ll be dealing with the consequences for the rest of his life no matter how healthy he might be otherwise--and, well, close to Arlington.

(Remembering it, remembering _Riley_ , doesn’t make Sam want to crawl into the grave anymore, but he’s always going to miss him. He’s always going to try and turn to him, try to see that smile one more time, at odd moments for no reason at all other than he _loved_ him and always would. If the only place he can feel close to Riley is Arlington, well. At least it’s nearby.)

Meeting Captain America while jogging around the Mall is unexpected, but he also never expected to be buddies with Tony Stark after saving him from self-destruction, or to be able to fly on metal wings when he went into the Air Force, and he never expected to fall in love. Shit just happens and Sam isn’t going to try and stop it.

Besides, the guy is so earnest and optimistic, it makes Sam want to believe the best of people too. Tony is optimistic too, in a different way, believing whole-heartedly in progress and technology. Sam can see why they work well together, although Tony almost never talks about Avengers stuff. That one time Tony told him about the bomb was hard enough on him. Sam doesn’t blame Tony or push. Classified is classified and they’ve both been on either side of that.

Having Captain America show up with a woman on his doorstep, the both of them looking like they’ve been beat to hell and whispering about HYDRA when they think he can’t hear them is _not at all_ expected.

“Have you tried calling the other Avengers?” he asks, after the third time they’ve jumped apart, Steve shifting guiltily and Romanoff staring at him like she’s trying to decide how to cook him. Seriously. He’ll put them up, of course, and he’s willing to fly with them if they want him, no other reason to give them his ‘resume’, but why limit their resources without reason?

“Anyone could be working against us,” Romanoff says, and he gets the feeling that she’s picked out the perfect cast iron skillet to fry his other kidney in. Steve sets his jaw stubbornly and looks like every damn poster telling people to join the Army. Yep, this isn’t going to go well.

“Uh-huh,” if Tony or the Hulk are HYDRA spies Sam’ll eat his dog tags, he’ll grant them Hawkeye, “yeah, sure. I can really see the _Futurist_ , CTO and owner of his own company which has better policies than the actual country it’s in, being a Neo-Nazi. Do we actually know the same Tony Stark?”

Steve chokes on his water. Romanoff’s eyes narrow and Sam hopes she doesn’t use onion for his kidney. He hates onions. “You know Iron Man?” she asks, and he’ll give this, she’s good at the dangerous-but-not- _too_ -dangerous-to-trust voice.

“Lady, _everyone_ knows Iron Man. At least, they know _of_ him. But yeah, I know Tony too. He built my wings. He’s a good guy.” She clicks her nails on his table ominously. And he’s the one who owns Sam’s wings. He’s not getting those back anytime soon without contacting Tony.

“Sam! There’s… there’s things you might not know about him. I just… I’m not sure we can trust him right now. He’s done-- there’s been a few things recently that just seem…” Steve trails off, glancing at Romanoff.

“Suspicious,” she finishes and Steve nods reluctantly.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Okay. So let’s say he’s changed in the _two weeks_ since I last saw him. What about Rhodes? Banner? Hell, why not Hawkeye? Jesus Christ, I don’t understand any of this. Are you really willing to trust a _stranger_ over people you’ve actually fought with?”

They exchange looks, Romanoff lifting an eyebrow. Steve sips at his coffee rather than meet her eyes for long. “You said you’d like to fly again. Do some good, right? Here’s your chance,” Steve says. Sam can practically see the flag snap patriotically behind him.

It hits right in the place that Riley left behind, the place that made him want to go into the Air Force, to become a pararescue, in the first place. It would have, should have worked. All his life he’s wanted to save people, and he was, _is_ , good at it.

(Tony thinks he is too. Thinks the Falcon program was one of the things he got right before Afghanistan, and Sam can’t disagree. They saved more lives with those wings then they would have been able to without them and if Sam ever even got a _hint_ that Tony wanted to start the program up again he’d be first in line to help him out in any way he could. But Sam doesn’t think they’re planning on asking for the wings nicely. Or at all.)

“I’m not going to steal from my friend.” Tony’s had that happen enough times in his life. Sam doesn’t need the wings to save lives anyway. He never did. They just helped.

“We’re done here.” Romanoff stands up from the table abruptly. Steve’s eyes are wide and he’s shaking his head slightly from side to side.

“Sam! I would _never_ ask you to steal-- You said they were your wings! How could that be stealing? We can just… borrow them. No problem.”

Sam thinks Romanoff has the right idea. “I’m not going to argue with you anymore. Good luck, let me know if you come up with a plan that doesn’t involve grand larceny.” Steve huffs a sigh but follows the increasingly stony-faced Romanoff. They disappear quickly into the busy street, and Sam throws together a go-bag.

He’s on the phone with Tony less than ten minutes after his houseguests are gone. Apparently they have work to do. And Sam may not _need_ his wings to help people, but he can’t help but think that if he gets to fly again, doing it with Tony would be pretty damn awesome.

* * *

They end up having to pick a dangling man off the roof when Tony tracks Natasha and Steve down. Sam’s a little rusty on the landing, he skids a little bit, but Tony drops the bald guy in front of Steve like a cat leaves presents.

“Capsicle, Natashalie, having fun without me?” Sam’s not sure he’s ever going to get used to hearing Tony’s voice filtered through JARVIS’. Romanoff still looks homicidal--the glare she sends him isn’t looking good for any outside of work relationship, not that he wants one--but Steve looks almost relieved, if a bit uncomfortable if the way his shoulders hike up around his ears is any indication.

“Stark,” Romanoff greets, before taking down the man trying to escape with a single kick to the knee. “Wilson.”

“Seriously, guys, have a little trust. We’re here to help,” Sam says, scanning the roofs around for anybody watching. Tony--Iron Man, really, they’re in the field so codenames would be safer for everyone--looks at him, then looks back at Steve. Captain America.

“Right. What he said,” even through JARVIS’ voice modulator, Tony sounds flippant, and Sam just has to grin. “So what’s the plan, Cap?”

Steve rolls his shoulders, straightens them, and tells them the plan.

It sounds stupid as fuck, but Sam’s not going to be able to come up with a better one. Tony argues a bit, fine-tunes a few details with Romanoff’s input, and eventually they come to a better plan than just relying on being able to keep a HYDRA agent alive and cooperative.

Hell, Sam’s only just met Sitwell, and he already kind of wants to shoot him. Maybe Romanoff deserves more credit than he thought, for not just taking out the trash immediately.

They make to leave the roof, Romanoff shoving Sitwell ahead of her and Tony taking the shortcut down to meet them in the lobby, when Steve pulls Sam back.

“Hey, I’m sorry. For… earlier. Thanks for calling Stark.” Steve sighs and shrugs. “I don’t think he would have come if it had just been me calling.”

Sam raises an eyebrow and snorts. “You don’t know a single goddamn thing about him, do you? All you would have had to do was ask.” Sam doesn’t make a habit of it, doesn’t like to do it. He doesn’t _need_ anything from Tony, he just wants to be there for him, in his life.

It hurts like a setting bone to realize just how much. It feels like a betrayal, even though he knows he’d want Riley to find someone else if their roles were reversed.

Steve smiles, wistful, looking like he’s a hundred years in the past. He looks like that a lot, Sam realizes, and it’s an awful thought. Waking up, only to find everyone he ever loved, everything he thought he knew were either dead or so different they might as well have been; well, it comes close to that fucking hospital bed.

“You’re probably right,” Steve says, and follows Romanoff and Sitwell down the stairs.

 _“Don’t get cocky just because you’re right, flyboy,”_ crackles over the earpiece Tony gave him before they flew out. He’ll give Steve and Romanoff theirs soon enough. _“But I’m glad you called me. Capsicle always needs more backup than he plans for.”_ Tony’s voice gets soft, even through the comm unit’s slight static. _“Cap’s right, too, though, I wouldn’t have come for just anyone.”_

“You’d have come because it was the right thing to do,” Sam says, because he’s still not quite ready to deal with that warmth in the pit of his stomach that the thought that he might be just as important to Tony as Tony is to him provokes. But soon.

Tony laughs in his ear, and the wind steals his breath away as Sam jumps off the building. Time to go save the world.

**Author's Note:**

> This started as an idea for Sam/Tony and ended up being mostly Sam/Riley feels. I don't regret it. This is probably one of my more comforting fics for me, just because it hurts but Sam manages to go on without ever doubting the love he had. I gave Riley the last name of 'Andrews' after Kaare Andrews the cover artist for "Ultimate Comics: The Ultimates #7" which is just a gorgeous piece of art of Falcon.
> 
> If you'd like, come visit me on [tumblr](https://sachinighte.tumblr.com/)!


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